


searching for something that i can't reach

by gmontys



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, ft harper/miller and bellamy/miller as bffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmontys/pseuds/gmontys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Miller was the type to use phrases like ‘kindred spirits’ he would use it to describe whatever it was he and Wells were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	searching for something that i can't reach

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by http://mcmartns.tumblr.com/post/119059410479/klokkombikru-thatweirdparamedicstudent in which wells and miller are bros who may or may not crush on each other, and bellamy and harper are miller's secret bffls (sobs).

Miller had a cough. It was no big deal, just a little itch, but his dad had all but thrown Miller in the direction of Dr. Abby Griffin that morning. Dr. Griffin only asked one question - “What’s wrong?” - to which Miller had replied with just under five words - “I have a cough” - and then she handed him a small container filled with pink liquid. “Take a spoonful once a night for a week and it should be fine,” she had said, smiling and patting Miller on the cheek. “Tell your dad I said hi.” Miller nodded, slipping the container into his pocket.

Dr. Griffin trained her smile on him for another beat before turning to attend to another child waiting for care. Miller knew he had been dismissed but he hesitated before leaving, watching Dr. Griffin and the other child talk. The child was a little girl, maybe a year or two younger than Miller, who alternated between coughing into her elbow and wiping her nose with her sleeve. Her shoes had duct tape across the toes and the backpack in her lap was ripped in a few places.

He couldn’t hear what she and Dr. Griffin were saying, but he watched as Dr. Griffin shook her head and the girl’s face fell. She didn’t cry. She nodded once, dejectedly, and wiped her nose again as Dr. Griffin walked away.

Miller bit his lip, still watching as the little girl sniffed and swiped the palm of her hand across her eye, a swift and rough movement. Miller wondered if she were mad at Dr. Griffin, the Ark or herself for getting her hopes up. He found himself feeling angry, too, on her behalf. His hand was still wrapped around the container of medicine, stuffed in his pocket. Medicine that he had been given without a second thought, despite his cough being nothing but a mild inconvenience, while this girl, who was obviously sick, was turned away because of what? Because of her wealth? Because her parents weren’t on the council?

He glanced around, but it was empty aside from him and the girl and through the window to Dr. Griffin’s office he could see her sitting at her desk, scribbling on a piece of paper. Miller hoped she was writing a guilt ridden diary entry about how she had sentenced a young girl to suffer her way through a cold because of selfishness and greed that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Urged on by his anger, he gathered the courage to step towards the girl.

The girl glanced up, immediately straightening in her seat. Her jaw visibly clenched and the arms she had clamped around her backpack tightening, pulling it to her chest. She was preparing for a fight. She couldn’t have been more than 10 years old. Miller clenched his jaw. “What?” she questioned, tone sharp.

Miller leaned back on his heels for a moment, grip tightening around the bottle in his pocket. It wasn’t fair that this girl would go without medicine, not at all, but was he really going to do this? It was illegal. He wasn’t sure if his dad’s position as Chief Guard would keep him out of the skybox. He might end up hurting the girl rather than helping her, if someone found out Dr. Griffin hadn’t given her the medicine. However, without the medicine she may get worse.

When Miller’s nervous silence dragged on the girl stood, moving to walk past Miller, but he grabbed her wrist before she could. She turned to face him, yanking her arm from his grip and shooting him a glare. “Hey,” she snapped. “What do you want?”

Before he could talk himself out of it Miller pulled the medicine from his pocket and handed it to her. She stared at his hand, suspended in the air between them, with her upper lip curled. She didn’t move. “Take it,” Miller said, jerking his hand toward her.

“Is this some kind of sick trick?” she asked, her threatening tone ruined by the cough that tore through her immediately following the question.

“No.” Miller sighed, using his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not that sick, you are, so take it.”

The girl had the back of her wrist pressed against her mouth, eyeing the medicine. “You’re the Chief Guard’s son.”

Miller shrugged. “We’re not that close.”

She let her hand drop, letting out a single, soft ‘ha’. Finally, she took the bottle from Miller’s out reached hand and stuffed it into her backpack, taking care to wrap it in a shirt and triple check that the bag was closed. When she was done she looked up at Miller, cracking a grin. “Thank you.”

He shrugged again, sticking his hands in his pockets. “No problem. Take a spoonful a night.” She nodded, that grin still in place. Miller could see her bottom row of teeth. Instinctively, he smiled back. Any thought he had about the negative consequences of his actions had disappeared, at least for that moment.

That was the first time he broke the law on the Ark.

 

* * *

 

Giving the medicine to the little girl might have been the first time he broke the law, but not even close to the last. In fact, it became something of a habit. ‘Job’ might be the better word for it or even ‘skill’ considering how good he was at it. It was easy to slip an apple or an orange into his pocket during breakfast and drop it into the lap of a kid who had skipped the meal or only had half of the portion Miller had. It was easy to wait for Dr. Griffin to go home and then pick the lock to her office. People trusted him, if only because of who his father was, so they never watched him too closely.

 

* * *

 

A year after the fateful day Miller was still stealing whenever he could. He even had regulars. There was Harper whose mom was often sick but couldn’t afford medicine, and Bellamy Blake who, despite leaving the cafeteria with a plate of food three times a day, everyday, could be heard from a mile away thanks to the grumbling of an empty stomach as well as a few others that Miller had become somewhat attached to.

However, he had also gotten cocky. Too sure of himself. It led to mistakes, to not noticing the eyes that followed him a little too closely, to getting caught.

Over the year Miller had developed a system of waiting for Dr. Griffin to go to her quarters for the night and then picking the lock to her office where he would find a mini fridge stocked with mild medicines, mostly used for coughs and colds. It was risky, but Miller had done it enough that he rarely thought about the risk anymore. He didn’t even look over his shoulder that night when he unlocked Dr. Griffin’s office and closed the door behind him.

He crouched down in front of the mini fridge Dr. Griffin kept next to her desk. Harper’s mom was sick again. While Miller had already been in this same position, less than a week ago after three days of listening to Bellamy fake cough all over the Ark, and he tried not to steal too much medicine in such a short period of time, telling Harper no was near impossible. He stuffed a bottle of hot pink liquid meant for colds into the pocket of his sweat pants and moved the bottles around to hide the empty space he had created by taking one of them. He closed the fridge and exited the room. Job well done.

“So, what’s your deal?”

Miller jumped, his stomach and heart finding a new home somewhere near the soles of his shoes while his hand wrapped tightly around Harper’s medicine. He quickly turned, immediately finding the person who spoke - and nearly peed his pants.

Wells Jaha was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was only a couple of months older than Miller and their parents were fairly close, but they weren’t friends. Wells spent most of his time with Clarke Griffin, and Miller spent most of his time with the people he stole for. Wells was also the son of the Chancellor. Wells’ dad would be the one throwing Miller in the sky box when he found out about his extracurricular activities.

“Excuse me?” Miller finally found his voice, and surprisingly it didn’t shake when he spoke despite the way he was freaking out inside. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to be arrested, the look on his dad’s face, the years he’d spend in the sky box before inevitably being floated.

Wells pushed off the wall and took a couple of steps toward Miller, nodding at Miller’s pocket. His fingers, wrapped around the bottle, twitched. What were the chances he could get the medicine to Harper before being arrested? “Why have you been stealing?” Wells asked, his voice low enough that only Miller could hear, despite the hallway being empty.

Miller straightened, taking advantage of the two or three inches he had on Wells and pausing for a long moment . “Who says I steal?” he said, finally.

Wells huffed out a laugh, fixing Miller with a look that said nice try. “Um, I do. I’ve seen you steal, Nathan.”

“Miller,” he corrected, instinctively, like a reflex. Wells acted like he hadn’t heard.

“I’ve been watching you,” Wells admitted, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, like they were having a casual conversation about the oatmeal they had for breakfast. “Not many people do, but I have, for a while now. I’ve seen you steal food, some clothes. I had a sneaking suspicion you were taking medicine, too, but I didn’t know for sure until right now. But what I can’t seem to figure out is why. You live on Alpha, your dad’s Chief Guard - what reason do you have to steal?”

Miller tilted his head down to look at his shoes - they were nice, no holes or frayed edges - and decided if he were going to the sky box then there was no point to keep the why hidden, as long as he didn’t mention Harper’s name. He looked back up and caught Wells eye. “I steal stuff and give it to people who need it.” Miller shook his head, struggling to put his thoughts into words. He wasn’t good at speeches or expressing how he felt out loud like Bellamy and Harper. “Look, the Ark is a fucking joke. You and me don’t have to worry about our next meal or what’ll happen when we get sick, but the majority of the people here do.” Miller shrugged, the movement sharp and violent. He hadn’t said what he wanted to, hadn’t been able to replicate any of Bellamy’s daily rants. “You can tell your dad but give me a ten minute head start so I can help out my friend.”

To Miller’s surprised, when he finished his speech Wells grinned, dropping a hand on Miller’s shoulder and squeezing. Miller suspected that Wells had been lying when he said he didn’t know why Miller stole.  “ _Tell my dad?_ ” Wells mocked, scoffing and shaking his head. “I’m not gonna tell my dad, Nathan. I agree with you; the Ark needs a lot of work. One day maybe I’ll be able to do something about it, but until then I’m going to graciously look the other way when you steal things.”

Miller laughed, mostly because he was shocked he wasn’t about to be arrested but also because he was shocked by Wells. Miller had expected someone like the people on the Council, so far up the law’s ass he couldn’t find his way out, and had been presented with the opposite. “Thanks, man,” Miller said, nodding.

Wells nodded back, squeezing Miller’s shoulder once more before taking his hand back. “No problem. Be more careful, though, if I caught you eventually someone else will.” Miller nodded again, far too aware of that.

When Miller found Harper and gave her the medicine she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. It helped Miller forget about the close call he had.

 

* * *

 

Wells and Miller didn’t become instant best friends after that. They shared an understanding and an indirect friendship that consisted largely of bro-nods exchanged in the middle of class or a meal and hands slapped to shoulders as they walked by each other. When the Chancellor made an announcement and Miller would roll his eyes he would look over to see Wells doing the same. When Miller stuffed an orange in his pocket he would turn around to see Wells wink at him. They rarely spoke and almost never ‘hung out’, but they were friends. If Miller was the type to use phrases like ‘kindred spirits’ he would use it to describe whatever it was he and Wells were.

 

* * *

 

Three days after Miller had been arrested for stealing pain medication from the pharmacy, he had a visitor that wasn’t Bellamy, Harper or his dad.

The Guard woke Miller up from a midday nap and placed him in a chair on one side of a metal table in a room with no windows before he could even open both of his eyes. When he did manage to get them open and wipe the sleep from them he saw Wells seated in a chair across the table from Miller.

Wells was sitting straight in his seat, arms folded on top the table and a pleasant smile on his face. Miller had no problem imagining a future where Wells got to take over his dad’s position, though he figured he’d only ever get to imagine it. He’d be dead before it ever got to happen. “So, I guess it would be inappropriate to ask you how you’re doing?”

“A little,” Miller replied, eyebrows arching as Wells laughed. “Why are you here, Wells?”

Wells shrugged, looking down at the table’s surface for a moment before looking back up at Miller with a smile. “Why wouldn’t I visit my friend in jail?”

“We’re not friends, Wells.”

“Yeah, we are.” Wells said it like a fact, simple. Not up for discussion. There was a beat of silence that followed before Wells spoke again, his voice much softer. “I’m sorry you’re in here. I wish - I wish there was something I could do.”

Miller bit his lip, nodding at Wells words. “It’s okay,” he said, shoulder raising into a shrug, like being in the Skybox wasn’t a big deal. Like it didn’t effect him.

“It’s not,” Wells insisted. “You shouldn’t be in here. You were just doing something that you believed was right - something that was right.” Wells shook his head, his tongue poking into his cheek. “I’ll try to talk to my dad, see if they’ll let you off when you turn eighteen and have your trial.”

“Wells, you don’t have-”

“No, I don’t, but I’m going to anyways, okay?” Wells leaned forward over the table, toward Miller. “You’re going to be okay.”

Miller breathed a short laugh, again shocked by Wells. His chest felt oddly tight. “I guess we are friends, then, huh?”

“You bet your incarcerated ass we are.” Wells jerked his head upward as he stood up and then jerked it again when Miller didn’t pick up on his gesture. “C’mon, get up, Nate.”

With a confused frown, Miller stood up and met Wells at the halfway point between their two sides of the table. At that point Wells rolled his eyes and grabbed Miller’s shoulder, echoing the way they had became friends, and pulled him towards him until they were hugging. Miller wasn’t exactly a hugger, despite the actions Harper made to change that, and he didn’t exactly peg Wells for one either, but the hug was tight and warm. It felt oddly familiar and comforting to Miller, like laying down in his bed after a long day, and he allowed himself a moment to bury his head in the crook between Wells neck and shoulder. Miller was pretty sure this was the closest to home he’d get in the Skybox.

 

* * *

 

The ground was different, of course, from anywhere else Miller had been. The rules were different in a sense that here, there were no rules. Here, it was easy to listen to what Bellamy said, especially after months of getting to know him on the Ark before being arrested. Here, it was easy to pretend he didn’t know Wells. Kind of. Not really.

After the high of being on the ground had dissipated a bit and he found Wells, standing up to Bellamy and Murphy with Clarke at his side, Miller had to physically stop himself from going over there and demanding Wells tell him how the hell he’d gotten himself arrested and sent to the ground (though Miller suspected it had something to do with however Clarke had gotten herself arrested). When Murphy hit Wells Miller only just managed to stop himself from intervening, though he definitely had some choice words with Murphy afterwards.

 

* * *

 

Sleeping on the ground was harder than it was on the Ark. The ground made noises, twigs snapped and the leaves rustled and kids all around him turned over in their sleeping bags. It meant that Miller didn’t spend much of the night sleeping, instead stepping over Murphy and Mbege’s sleeping forms and making his way to a clearing not too far from their camp. There he would lay on his back and watch the sky, wondering how his dad and, to a lesser extent, the rest of the Ark was.

“Doing some stargazing?”

Miller lifted his head found the ground to look at the newcomer, though he could tell from the voice who it was. As he suspected, Wells was standing at the line of trees, his ankle looked better, though he still favoured his other leg.

“Something like that,” Miller answered, letting his head drop back to the ground. After a moment he heard Wells settle onto the ground beside him. The two didn’t say anything for a long moment, before Miller couldn’t keep his questions to himself. “Why are you here, Wells?”

He heard the smile in Wells voice when he replied. “Why wouldn’t I visit my friend on the ground?” Miller hit Wells chest with the back of his hand, though he couldn’t hold back a smile of his own. “Clarke’s dad found the problem with the Ark’s life support system. He planned to go public with it and she wanted to help, but my dad found out. She got set to the Skybox and her dad got floated. When I found out about the 100 mission I broke a twig from the last tree to get sent down here with her - and you.”

At some point while Wells was talking Miller had turned his head to watch him and when Wells finished he did he same, so the two boys were face to face, their faces serious and soft. The moment felt big - too big for Miller to handle right then.

“You fucked with the last tree? Dude, that’s the lamest crime.”

Wells laughed, shifting to shove Miller’s shoulder with his hand. “Shut up, man.”

 

* * *

 

Miller heard about Wells death from Murphy. A stupid, snide, supposed-to-be-funny comment Murphy had muttered to Miller and Mbege about the _Chancellor of Earth_ biting the bullet. That’s how Miller found out. He didn’t get to react, save for a bitter smile and a too hard punch at Murphy’s shoulder masquerading as a “bro shove”. It seemed like Clarke had the monopoly on grieving for Wells, with the way people were treating her and the time she spent at his makeshift grave, despite the fact she had wrongly hated him for the majority of their time on the ground. (Maybe Miller was a little bitter).

After Charlotte died and Bellamy and Clarke came to an understanding, Miller finally visited Wells’s grave. Clarke was with Bellamy and Raven, deciding on way to lead the camp. Bellamy had told Miller he could be there during the discussion, but Miller found that he couldn’t handle watching the camp’s leaders without Wells there.

He was drawing shapes in the ground just in front of Wells’s grave with a stick as he said the things he couldn’t say to anything else, his worries about his dad and his grief that he had pretended not to know Wells while he had been alive and how he felt about Bellamy and Clarke’s leadership.

He admitted, in a whisper to the ground, the things he had never thought he’d say out loud, the way he had felt for Wells’s that went just a bit beyond regular friendship.

He figured this, sitting at Wells’s grave, was as close to home as he would get on the ground, at least for now.

 

 


End file.
